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Title: Sixth sense
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,354 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Regular Challenge r18.11 - Symbiotic at fffc
Summary: Man's best friend has a sixth sense for when things aren't right.
The whole world can be ending and it doesn't throw me one bit, but anything goes wrong with the kids and there's this unshakable terror that churns up inside me.
'Ianto, it's Sian. I think she's taken a turn for the worse. I'm taking her down to the hospital. It's probably nothing and I'm overreacting but I'll just feel better if they check her over. No, you don't have to come. Okay, okay, fine. I'll see you there.'
It's a tough decision, hospital or Torchwood. Torchwood has people I know and trust, but the hospital has all the equipment and drugs in the world. What swings it for me is the dog. Buddy is getting underfoot and seems panicky. It's probably nothing, but the dog disagrees. Now, call me crazy but there's something that happens when you put kids and dogs together. I don't know what it is, but they form this relationship that goes beyond your typical man's best friend thing. I love that mutt to pieces, but there's some deeper connection between him and all of the little people in our house.
Since the first moment we brought those babies home, he became a completely changed beast. Still drives Ianto crazy with his occasional naughtiness, and always knows how to eke sympathy out of anyone five seconds after having done something wrong, but there's a calmness to him when he's around the kids. I worried about having him in the same room as them. Once you've seen what he can do to a chew toy, you think twice about letting him anywhere near a baby. Instead, he was instantly the most overprotective one in the whole house. I still laugh thinking about how he tried to take a piece of Rhys' ankle when he came over to visit, leaning over the cot to pick up Tom. That dog would give its last breath to save them from harm. So would any of us.
There something more to it, though. They read his emotions better than us. They know how to play rough with him and not rile him up to a point where he's ready to take a chunk out of you. Not that he does that very often, but just sometimes you think it's nothing more than an innocent tug of the ears and then he's growling something fierce at you, a message that says back off, loud and clear. It's like he's forgotten every time I've slipped him food under the table and all those times Ianto let him sleep in our bed even though he shouldn't. He's been our faithful companion for years but somehow it's the kids that know him better than anyone. For most of their lives, he's been bigger than they are, yet there's no one I'd trust more to look after them if Ianto and I can't be there. Not everyone would let a big dog around kids, but then again, we're not the average family. Buddy is as close to human as you'll get. Trust me, I know. He spent a few days stuck inside my body and me his, and I still get a kick out of having my belly rubbed. You'd think after that I'd be able to get inside his head pretty easily, figuratively that is, but the kids have me cornered on that one.
One time he got this thorn stuck in his paw only no one knew about it, and it had gotten infected and swollen up to the size of a small plum. Like all good pets when they get sick, he went into hiding. Ianto and I must've turned the whole neighborhood upside down trying to find him, terrified he'd been hit by a car or something, and that someone had dumped him somewhere. You've never felt so sick to your stomach thinking the worst. But then, lo and behold, as were doing another pass up and down the street, calling out for him, Sian is tugging on Ianto's hand begging to let them go across the road to the Dermott's house. We just assumed they wanted to play with the neighbours, knowing they had a cubby house in their yard. I say cubby house, but it's more like the Palazzo Versace. You could fit twelve kids in that thing and have room to spare. Lucky since we've got three of our own. It turned out that Buddy had been hiding out in the cubby house, nestled under a pile of blankets. How did they know? Your guess is as good as mine. They just did. Don't ask me to explain it. Filial canine ESP.
It's just like today. Sian was feverish last night so I stayed home to keep an eye on her. Ianto took the other two to school and continued on to the hub. Admittedly I probably needed a day at home to work in peace and quiet. The backlog of reports had been getting away from me. I checked on our baby girl, tucking her in and checking her temperature again. I left the door half open in case she needed anything so she could just call out. The study was only two doors further down. I fixed a cup of coffee and took it with me, spying the streak of black that is our dog sneak in through the ajar door and into her room. Good dog, I thought. He always knew when someone wasn't feeling well, sick or just generally down in the dumps, keeping them company. It would of course mean I wouldn't have my feet warmer in the study, but that was okay. Pets are meant to be good at speeding up the recovery process, so they say.
I'd just been getting into the swing of things, having cleared my emails first when Buddy came in and set his face in my lap. I stroked his head and ears and he began whining something awful. 'What's wrong boy?' He took off out of the room and nudged open the door to Sian's room, leaping onto the bed and lying flat next to her tiny body, continuing to whine.
I felt her forehead, cooler than last night, but still warm. She was asleep, but there was something about the way Buddy was acting that sent off alarm bells in my head. Did he know something I didn't?
'Daddy?' came the tired little voice.
'I'm here, pumpkin. How are you feeling?'
'It hurts.'
'What hurts, sweetie?' I said, brushing back her mousey hair from her forehead.
'Everything.'
There was another little whine from Buddy and that settled it for me. 'Okay,' I said, bundling her up in her blanket. 'Why don't we go to the doctor so he can make you feel better?'
Five minutes later I had her settled in the car before stupidly remembering I hadn't told Ianto. I don't want to panic him. Bad enough one overprotective parent is losing it. It doesn't work though. He knows when I'm trying to play things down, and if anything, I'll be glad that he'll be there, even if it is nothing. Worrying has become a team sport.
I do a quick runaround the house, checking everything is switched off before grabbing the keys and heading for the door. Buddy is there, tail wagging emphatically, waiting for the signal to hop in the car. It's all I can do to hold him back from the door. 'Not this time, Buddy. Stay.' He whines and shuffles uneasily on his haunches, just waiting to leap back to his feet but trying to obey the command simultaneously. I get it and it means the world. There's a sick little girl in that car and all he wants is to help. I kneel down and hug him. 'Good dog. She's my little girl too. I promise we'll take care of her.'
There's something wrong. He knows it and now I know it. Perhaps a father should know without being told, but maybe they need one another in a way I'll never understand. How it works doesn't matter nearly as much as the fact that it does.
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Date: 2019-12-07 10:21 pm (UTC)I hope Sian is okay, but dogs can sense so much that people can't, they can smell things.
I adore this 'verse.